


Isn't it lovely (to be human)?

by blindedstarlight



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Handcuffs, Heavy Angst, Kissing, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Redemption, Restraints, Unintentional Redemption, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 08:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindedstarlight/pseuds/blindedstarlight
Summary: Vergil's returned, and you want to make him hurt as much as he hurt you-- you want him to feel the pain it is to be human.





	Isn't it lovely (to be human)?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TehRevving](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TehRevving/gifts).



> Hugely inspired by Billie Eilish and Khalid's song "isn't it lovely?"-- the whole mood of this fic comes from these few lines:
> 
> Isn't it lovely, all alone?  
> Heart made of glass, my mind of stone  
> Tear me to pieces, skin to bone  
> Hello, welcome home
> 
> This is a very heavy fic-- please don't feel obligated to read it if you're not feeling great mentally or physically! Thank you to Revvy for inspiring meeee-- this was supposed to involve blood and gore, but the psychological aspect of it carried me a different direction and now it's just slfbslvnsfhjskvjbslvbs!

With the Qliphoth’s roots severed for months now, civilisation began to rebuild itself. First came the hospitals for the sick, established in large homesteads that could still safely house more than twenty-odd patients in need of medical attention. You did all you could to help out whenever you could get a break away from the administration role you took upon yourself at Devil May Cry. Trish and Lady were grateful to you, not quite trained to balance accounts and hail down potential business. Still, business that was of interest to the demon hunters was slowly but surely beginning to dwindle.

Or so, it felt that way.

The demon infestations weren’t as dire as before Dante, Vergil and Nero had finished up at the top of the demonic tree. There were a few small grunts hanging around here and there, easily dispatched by either Trish or Lady on solo missions. The women were beginning to groan about how boring things had gotten since Dante and Vergil had ventured off into the Underworld— you almost wanted to point out to the proud ladies that it seemed like they actually missed Dante.

As for Vergil… you didn’t want to give away the painful fact that you actually _knew_ him. You knew his smile, you knew his little habits that made him Vergil, and you knew about his past. You knew his deepest and darkest secrets, and furthermore you knew all about his greatest fears.

All the fears that had turned to living nightmares; all of the horrors that he had faced on his own, all for his aimless pursuit of power— you knew _everything_. Part of you yearned to see him again, only to hold him in your arms, flush against you just to give him the love and affection that he craved for so long. But then there was also a greater part of you that hurt so badly that you were afraid seeing him would rip open all the mended jabs to you heart that he’d personally delivered in the form of Urizen and his search for the bloody Fruit of Legend.

When Nero came back down from the demonic tree clutching V’s notebook, he looked at you with conflicted pain clear in familiar steel blues that you hated to admit you knew much too well. It was a fling, in the past; borne from a moment of lust-riddled weakness after a terrible loss. Vergil had been there with his lies, his silver tongue saying exactly what you wanted to hear. Looking at Nero was hard for the first month after learning about his relationship to Vergil… _that man who yearned for nothing but acceptance and validation of his place with those he loved…_ ** _he was Vergil’s own son_**.

It was hard to be around anyone who reminded you of Vergil— anything to do with the Sparda bloodline had you internally wincing. Why was that? Simple.

 _You loved Vergil_.

And there was no doubt in your mind, despite knowing that he was responsible for all the lives lost, and all the family that had been robbed from you for his selfish, misguided quest for power, that you were irrevocably in love with him still. Just thinking about the concept of power grated on your nerves. You got angry about it often, slamming doors and stomping your feet in a petulant outburst of emotion when you failed to stop yourself from thinking about all the reasons why Vergil was wrong.

You didn’t want to make him the bad guy when was so good to you, even if the moments you shared in the past seemed fleeting now. You pondered over his potential feelings towards you, right then and there, in that very moment. Was he thinking about you just as laboriously as you did about him? Did he ever think, even once, that his search for power was going to end up hurting everyone close to him— you included?

You had to shake the thought from your mind with a small huff that passed your lips simply out of resentment of your own feelings towards the matter that was Vergil and your relationship with him. Trish was out shopping, but you knew Lady was going to be back soon from her mission, and you needed to have the accounts balanced before she came to ask for her cut.

Having lost track of time, you only peeked at the time display on your computer when you heard the front doors of the office open up with a dramatic bang. You didn’t bother looking up, thinking that perhaps Lady wasn’t having a good day— the three of you were always crashing and banging around more for your own amusement and outlet more than anything else. You weren’t about to call her out on it now. Besides, the only other person who could have barged in so loudly would be Nero, and you knew that he was helping Kyrie out for the big lunch she was planning for everyone the very next day. Your eyes were still focused on the computer screen, the numbers a little blurry from the prolonged concentration.

You were about to refresh the screen just to ensure all your edits had been saved when a low wolf-whistle tore you right away from your task. You were already shaking your head as your eyes widened, your hands moving away from the keyboard and mouse respectively, shaking uncontrollably. You felt like you just heard a ghost.

You gaze locked onto his figure, stark in his red leather get-up, ever-present smirk fixed on his lips. Looking as rugged as you remembered seeing him months ago, he opened his arms up, offering you a beckoning motion with a flick of his wrists. All you could do was push back from the desk, still seated, your mouth hanging agape as you tried to process the fact that Dante was standing in the doorway to Devil May Cry.

“Hey, hey! I thought you’d miss me more than that! C’mon, I wanna hug!”

You managed to close your mouth and gulp before the tentative question rasped out your throat.

“D-Dante? Are… are you… _real_?” You blinked again, thinking very seriously that he was an apparition and that your tired eyes were just playing tricks on you. When he stepped closer, arms still open and grin widening with every step he closed in, you snapped out of your stupor and stood abruptly before rounding the desk. You hit your thigh onto the sharp corner of the desk, but ignored the pain as you flung yourself at the legendary demon hunter, unable to keep yourself from letting out a relieved sob.

He rubbed your back as he held you, gently patting your head before pulling away. He continued to grin as he shrugged and raised his eyebrows at you. “I’m all in one piece. Told ya all not worry about me—.”

“ _Dante, must you run off with such haste?_ ”

You ripped yourself away from Dante at the sound of _him_. Stumbling back, your gaze went right over Dante’s shoulder, to lock straight onto Vergil’s steel gaze. His eyebrows furrowed as he considered you for a few short moments before they rose in clear surprise.

“Do you have to be such a stick-in-the-mud? I was just reuniting with my buddy Y/N here!”

You winced and ducked your head as Dante mentioned your name. Surely, Vergil knew exactly who you were now, even if there had been doubts lingering in his mind at first glance.

“Y/N… _it’s good to see you are well_.”

Dante’s eyes were on you, eyebrow quirked curiously at his brother’s blatant recognition. It was rare of him to even acknowledge another being’s existence, let alone a human. Everything was about power for him, after all. And you didn’t look keen on being recognised, let alone by Vergil of all people.

Still, Dante couldn’t blame you. Being recognised by a man who had almost single-handedly succeeded in destroying the whole world wasn’t something to parade around proudly.

You pointedly ignored Vergil’s address, unable to bring yourself to care if you were being rude. You nodded stiffly at Dante with a softly uttered, “Welcome back, Dante.” You found that you had trouble coordinating your thoughts into intentions, and with that difficulty, your actions grew limited. You stood rooted to the spot, eyes never leaving Dante’s as you felt the ice-like gaze of your past lover chilling you to the bone.

You wanted to look at him, and move towards him to tell him that you missed him. It was the twisted truth; you were happy to see him— but you also didn’t want him to think everything was okay. It wasn’t okay, and you weren’t sure if it ever would be okay. You lost so much because of his actions; his inconsideration. You cried yourself dry of emotion long ago, and as much as you wanted to throw a fit and scream at him to get out of your sight, you lacked the energy to do just that.

Truth be told, you lacked the energy or the will to even muster the courage to face Vergil again. There he stood, a mere few feet from you, and you couldn’t even glare his way. Pathetic? Perhaps. Understandable? Completely.

“Hey, uh, Y/N?” Dante stepped forward, hands up in a gesture of surrender, expression strangely soft for a man who couldn’t find it within himself to be serious for more than twenty seconds at a time outside of mortal danger. His voice dipped as he approached you, soft and non-confrontational. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the expression you wore on your face at the sight of Vergil to have him get so serious with you. “C’mon, you’ve been overworking yourself again, haven’t you? Let’s get you to your room. Don’t wanna see you down here again until tomorrow morning, got it?”

Nodding, you let Dante lead you to the spare room you claimed as your own when you began working crazy hours to bring business back up for his hopeful return. It was only when you heard Dante shut the door of your room after being safely inside that you turned to him with a hushed urgency.

“Dante… what the _fuck_ is he doing here?”

Taken aback, Dante back-peddled, confusion clear on his face. You noted that he looked exhausted and completely unkempt. Despite this, he was admittedly handsome as ever. You’d be lying if you were to say you never ever thought of Dante during your more salacious imaginations in the dark of the night. Still, even if the fantasies your mind conjured up started with Dante looming over you with his cocky smirk and playful demeanour, somewhere along the way his hair would get slicked back, and his tone would become derisive with a commanding edge to it. His gaze would grow cold and calculating, and you in turn would change your self-ministrations to suit the new focus of your lewd imagining.

Vergil. Everything always went full circle, right back to the bastard who ruined your life in so many ways that you couldn’t even fathom what normal was supposed to feel like anymore. Full of destructions and despair, and empty from all the losses and sacrifices you had to make in the wake of his apocalypse… you didn’t understand why your heart still insisted on aching for him.

He wasn’t _good_. You knew that. Everyone knew that.

Dante still hadn’t answered your question.

“I asked you a question; the fuck is that bastard doing alive, Dante?”

He shook his head, brows furrowing as he fumbled his answer, clearly taken aback by your manic aggression.

“He… said he wouldn’t do it again. We, uh, spent a lotta time in the Underworld and we got to talking and—.”

“And _what_?” You hissed, jabbing your pointer finger into the much taller man’s chest, pushing him back against the door. You knew that if he wanted, he could have remained standing exactly where he was; he was much stronger and sturdier than you after all— but he was clearly letting you get your frustrations out however you saw fit. You continued your irrational interrogation, too much of a coward to ask your questions to the one man who could give you the answers you really wanted. “You let him off even though he fucked the world up so bad that no one knows what it’s like to really live anymore? Are you fucking serious, Dante—?”

“He’s my brother, Y/N.” Dante interrupted you, his tone quiet but firm. His gaze locked onto your livid glare, and despite the resolve in his tone, and the stiff way he held himself, like he was ready to defend himself against another one of your rabid attacks, there was a soft pleading in his eyes. They were slightly darker than Vergil’s… only just— and you were sure it was because Dante was the warmer of the two. He was safe, but Vergil was thrilling. “V’s will is Vergil’s own. When his human side joined the demon side, his resolve to better himself grew. He’s sorry, and I know he is. It was damn hard convincing him to come back up here too, but… he and Nero are the only family I have left. And Nero… he deserves a chance to know his old man.”

Your teeth took your bottom lip between them, worrying the plump flesh to the point that it began to smart. You shook your head and shut your eyes, unable to argue with Dante on his position. It would be selfish of you to argue any further— sure you lost your family, and in your eyes it was unfair and horrible and an irreversible crime that could only be punished by the death of the one who brought the suffering upon you— but at least in your loss, your friend had gained something he wished for since he thought he’d lost everything when he was only a kid.

And Nero, despite his outward anger at the whole notion of his father having once been the evil he was fighting to protect Kyrie and the world from, yearned so very desperately to learn more about his father’s past. You heard him often asking Kyrie hypothetical questions about his mother— where was she? Was she still alive? Was Vergil really in love with her when he had been conceived?

That particular questions tore at your heart. Had he been in love before? Had he known that he had a son that he left all on his own in a dangerous world, only to continue his unending search for power? What was he going to do once he attained that power he was so desperately seeking? Would he have used the power to protect those he loved? Would you have been someone he safeguarded?

“Damn it all…” you shuddered and turned your back towards Dante. You raised your hand and waved him out dismissively without even looking back. You didn’t want to look at him. He was Vergil’s twin, after all. It was hard to look at Dante and not see your past lover— _was he even your lover_?

“Y/N… I don’t know what’s going on between you and Vergil but… it means a lot that he remembered you. I think you know that too.”

You didn’t give any indication of acknowledging Dante’s words, though your eyes misted over as you tried your hardest to hold your emotions back until he took the hint and finally left you to your own devices in your room. Once you heard the click of your door, you let out a shaky breath and allowed your knees to give out. You crumped onto a heap on the wooden floor, shaking as you wrapped your arms around yourself, silent sobs wracking your entire body.

Yet you felt numb. Your body went through the motions, but your psyche was in shock. You didn’t know what to do with any of the information you had about Vergil and his return. You shut your eyes tight and crumpled further into yourself, screaming in your mind to wake up from the nightmare you were facing. You didn’t realise how messed up you were about Vergil. You didn’t realise that you were still in love with him, and the very notion of being in love with the monster who took so much so unfairly from the world you all deserved to feel safe on… it really fucked you up.

All your internal begging was for naught, for you were already wide awake. Vergil’s presence in the office downstairs was not part of a sick nightmare— it was reality. And you were going to have to face him soon, whether you liked it or not.

Feeling sick to your stomach, you dragged yourself to your bed and struggled to tuck yourself under your covers. You buried your face into your pillow, in a half attempt to smother yourself, to no avail. You breathed in deeply, and exhaled before gulping hard and rationalising within yourself.

As long as Dante was around, then things would be okay. He would keep Vergil in check. You could do this is Dante was around.

As for Vergil remembering you— _you weren’t so sure that was a good thing_. Not for you, and surely not for him. You only hoped he wouldn’t approach you with memories of a passionate fling that haunted your daily thoughts when you weren’t careful about keeping them buried deep inside, away from the thoughts that kept you focused and sane.

You shut your eyes and counted. You counted until you began to lose track of the numbers. You counted until you felt yourself drifting… drifting… and you felt warm arms envelope you with quiet strength, and the scent of mint and the comforting spice that could only come from the burning of rich oak firewood. It reminded you of that innocent time where you had first been drunk in love, so willing to give yourself to the man with the cold steel blue gaze that penetrated your very soul. That time, when things felt so simple, when you threw care to the wind and just did what you thought was right… it had felt so good. Everything was new and intense. Your first kiss. Your first night with him. The first time you’d woken with him looking so relaxed and peaceful by your side… it was everything you had ever wanted.

And now… _you knew you wanted it now more than ever before_. There was only one man you wanted to be with— but was he really a man at all? After what he’d done? After proving himself the reincarnation of the Devil himself?

Your mind screamed no.

But your heart… your heart begged and pleaded with you so damn insistently— _yes_.

He was, and still remained, the man you irrevocably fell in love with all those years ago.

* * *

It took you a few days to pluck up the courage to head downstairs again knowing that the Devil May Cry office was his home too. In those days, you listened keenly through your perpetually shut door for any sign of his departure. Unfortunately for your cowardice, he remained present in the vicinity, his dry remarks at Dante’s ability to keep his business afloat drifting up for you to hear.

You hated that your lips would stretch into a wry smile at his humour. You hated that hearing his voice so consistently brought you a sick semblance of peace that you were missing for so long since he’d left you alone in a cold bed in the middle of what you experienced as the most frigid winter you ever lived through. You meandered down the stairs, knees wobbling and lets almost teasing at giving out from right underneath you.

Lady was the first to notice you, but tactful as always, she thankfully nodded at you in silence before turning back to Dante with a frown deeply set on her striking features. Dante, as usual, sat reclined on his chair with his feet propped up on his desk. Some things never changed.

“You sent him out, unsupervised?! What if he—?”

“What, Lady? You think he’s gonna go out and summon a demonic tree again? Gimme a break!” His eyes were suddenly on your approaching figure, and you wondered if he realised you left your room much earlier than when Lady spotted you only moments ago. “I sent him out because Y/N’s still adjusting.”

You frowned, steps growing smaller as you shuffled your way towards Lady and Dante. Out of the corner of your sight, you spotted Trish lounging on the sofa placed right against the adjacent wall. She seemed bored.

“Can’t you just set him up with a new place or something? Y/N, the accounts are looking shit again, and I get that you’re going through some things with Vergil around and all— we all are— but the world hasn’t stopped spinning and shit’s still happening. If you can’t get on with the job, then we’re gonna have to evict you and—.”

“Hell no! Y/N, don’t listen to her; you take all the time you need. I know it’s hard for you.” The way his eyes penetrated your indifferent expression startled you, the knowing flicker in his eyes giving your secret away. Vergil had to have told him; there was no other way Dante could have looked at you with so much conflicted sorrow in his expression— he wasn’t a man to coddle others, but he was well and truly a big softie. When it came to matters of the heart, he turned to a puddle of gooey emotion. Dante planted his feet onto the floorboards and sprung up from his seat, eyes never leaving yours as he took your hands in his. “He wants to talk to you, though. I think… it could bring you closure, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

He squeezed your hands in his, and for a moment you wished that you were in love with Dante. You wished that he was the one you had shared those impassioned nights with, sharing a multitude of firsts with the happy-go-lucky do-gooder who was strangely shy about showcasing his heart of gold too openly.

He was so warm.

And the other was so cold.

The cold always held a certain appeal though; that, you couldn’t deny.

Lady slumped and shook her head in uncharacteristic defeat. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on between you and Vergil, but you need to sort that shit out. He’s pretty withdrawn all things considered, and really obedient— I don’t know why you’re so scared—.”

“Things happened, Lady.” You looked up at her with trembling lips. Licking the dryness of your mouth, you shook your head and blinked your eyes to rid yourself of the collecting tears. “Sometimes I wish they didn’t. But they did, and I can’t change it. And I fell in love with evil, and I’m still pining for him even though he took everything from me. I… I don’t know what to do with myself, let alone this whole situation. It feels like a fever dream, and I just want to wake up and have things go back to the bleak normal it was before. Without him.”

Trish moved from her spot on the sofa and you felt her cool hand upon your shoulder through your shirt. You shivered at the touch, though felt soothed by it nonetheless. She rubbed your tenseness with her thumb in soothing circles, and spoke.

“He’s here, and we can’t change that. He’s also suffering the weight of his sins. He did shitty things, but that doesn’t change that he’s half-human as well. Joining back with his human side so willingly was the biggest test of all— and he’s said it so many times already, just not in so many words; all he wants is to be loved and protected.

Your eyes widened as you remembered Nero telling you that the mysterious man who went by the name of ‘V’— later revealed to be Vergil’s humanity severed from his demon form— had proclaimed the exact same thing. It was hard to keep your heart swelling up in hope for something beautiful with him.

You heard Lady scoff, and heard her boots scuff on the floorboards as she turned to leave.

“As much as I want to blast that fucker back into the depths of Hell for playing into my father’s hands so willingly, I’ve got a soft spot for this slob too.” She paused in her stride and shot you a pointed look over her shoulder. “We’ve all got our hang ups with him, but we’re all gonna find a way to make this work. We’ve gotta— we’re all pretty much family after all. There’s no one else out there for us except… us.”

Her words felt insensitive— everyone’s words did. There was nothing more you wanted to do but wallow in your pit of resentment for Vergil while you pined for his touch once again from afar. In a way, you got used to the way Vergil’s absence hurt you, and like an addict, you didn’t feel comfortable breaking out of your funk in a way that didn’t mean anything to you.

A long silence followed you all, and you had some time back in your room a few hours later to mull over how you were going to go about confronting Vergil and the crippling hurt that came with him. Your mind wandered to dark places, and you were scared of how quickly and easily you formulated a plan to break him.

He wanted power, more than anything, and he destroyed so much for naught. Tonight, you were going to exact your revenge. You were going to leave him powerless. Your mind went blank with resolve, all your sweetness and empathy leaving to take refuge somewhere deep inside an attitude much more nefarious than anything you ever allowed to be seen by another took over.

You were ready to see Vergil; to speak with him and get your answers— you were ready to _destroy_ the last flecks of his power-hungry resolve. You were ready to remind him exactly who he was to bow down to, and beg for mercy. All the hurt you felt all those years he left you cold and alone on your own?

He was going to feel it all very soon.

* * *

You played this whole scenario out multiple times from the very little you realised you knew about the man you were hopelessly infatuated with, but no amount of mental gymnastics could prepare you for seeing him so up close and personal in the flesh. You thought it best to speak with him outside of Devil May Cry, and so you asked Dante to slip him an envelope with a carefully written note inside detailing the hotel and room number you were planning to carry out your dark deeds in. And so here he was, standing at the door, having knocked rather than just let himself in like he was supposed to do, looking down at your silk-robe clad frame.

You floundered for a moment, mouth opening and closing as you already began to lose your cool. His icy blue gaze was fixed on you the moment you opened the door, smirk quickly spreading over his lips as he took in the sight of you; like you were some kind of present or offering solely for him. The way he held himself was as prideful as ever, and you reminded yourself rather harshly that tonight you were going to strip even a little bit of that pride away. He was so arrogant about being kin of Sparda— of the legendary dark knight’s very own son— you were going to show him well and truly what a human woman was capable of.

“Didn’t you think to use the key card?” You liked that there was an edge to your tone as you addressed him. Your legs threatened to give out from under you as you turned on your heel and made your way towards one of the seats at the black round table in the corner of the room. You focused on the artificial roses that were placed there as a centrepiece, noting the dust on the petals, just for the sake of concentrating on something that wasn’t so intimidating and emotionally heavy.

You heard a soft rustling as you heard Vergil take a seat on the edge of the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Thoughts of what you were about to instigate flashed in your mind as your gaze darted towards the black duffel bag you brought along with you, with some questionable items concealed within. You felt your cheeks grow warm and hoped that the flush you felt couldn’t be seen from the distance Vergil was at. Before you could even begin to wonder how you were hoping to instigate your vengeful lesson upon him, his sharp and articulated voice cut through the silence like a knife.

“You seem startled. Odd, given you’re the one who extended this gracious invitation.”

You snorted derisively, the courage to look at Vergil as you addressed him flaring out of seemingly nowhere.

“Good to know you’ve got some capacity to read other’s emotions after all that time being a pure demon, Urizen—.”

You heard the sharp intake of his breath before he spoke, and revelled in the hurt pinch between his eyebrows. In that moment he appeared human— so normal. He appeared to have his regrets, but that wasn’t enough for you. You wanted him to admit them. You needed to stay on guard— you couldn’t allow yourself any sympathy for this monster. Not until you were able to ruin him and show him exactly what how sorry he needed to be. You were going to break his pride. That was a promise to yourself you were intending to keep.

“Don’t call me by that name. That form was never my intention—.”

“Yeah? And all that human blood you used the demonic tree to suck up from terrified, innocent people? Was that within your intentions?”

You were impressed with the levelness of your tone as you interrogated him, hitting him exactly where you knew it would hurt. You wanted to pluck out every mistake he made and slap it across his face, just to see the regret sink into his stupidly handsome face.

He wasn’t looking at you anymore, his lips pressed together, severe expression on his face. You noted that he took his shoes off at the door; a habit of his from what you could tell. You briefly wondered if you knew anything about the man who had wheedled his way into your heart back when you were too young to even know to protect yourself from men like him. You had been too naive, too stupid and too easy to fall for Vergil to have allowed yourself to give everything you had so freely. And you waited for him for so long, and searched for him tirelessly until you met Dante simply by chance one day.

Vergil most likely didn’t know how devoted you were to him, and that realisation in itself caused a searing hot pain to pierce right through your heart. He still hadn’t answered your question, and you cleared your throat to prompt him rather rudely. Not that you cared anything about being rude to him tonight. If anything, you were letting your lack of manners take reign.

He murmured something, much too soft for you to catch, and you compulsively slammed your fist hard against the table, upsetting the centre-piece, leaving the dusty synthetic roses tipped on their side. That got his attention, his tired blue hues examining you with interest mixed with what seemed to be age-old exhaustion.

“What is it that you want from me, Y/N?” His voice came out harsh, his lips pulled in a sneer as you clearly began to test his patience. This was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to rile him up and them put him in his place. You wanted to see the fight bleed out of his eyes, leaving him with only helplessness as you picked at him piece by piece.

You stood from your seat at the table and pointed a finger at him, realising belatedly that you were shaking hard from the adrenaline rush that boosted your courage in that moment. “I want to know if you got what you wanted. I want to know if you’re proud of what you’ve accomplished—.”

“I’ve accomplished naught—.”

“You almost ended the world, all for power! You left your son…” you trailed off as you mentioned Nero, hurt raw and clearly evident in your voice. You took a step forward towards him, jabbing you finger threateningly as you continued on your tangent. “You were fucking around with so many women back then, weren’t you? It wasn’t just me, was it?”

He didn’t answer, and that made your blood boil. He didn’t even look at you as you stepped closer, so dangerously close that you could smell his familiar scent of mint and spiced oak. You hadn’t even registered your arm moving as fast as lightning, only the way Vergil’s head whipped to the side, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open in a choked sounding gasp. It was then that your palm smarted, and you came to the belated realisation that you had actually slapped Vergil right there and then.

Your quivering gaze flickered to his cheek, the redness on his pale skin confirming for sure that your hit was as hard as it felt. But then the redness began to fade unfairly quick, and you growled in frustration, landing another hit— almost manic in the way you struck him over and over.

He sat there, taking it all, silent and still. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t fighting back, and you wanted him to at least react. That would mean that it was going through his thick skull— that he was understanding the hurt he had caused with his selfishness. But he just sat there, jaw clenched and fingers tightly gripping his knees— doing nothing but receiving your disdainful blows.

“Say something! Tell me why you played with my heart the way you did? Tell me why you left me all alone for all these years!” You hissed, leaning down, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging. Your action did nothing to jolt him in any way— he was much too sturdy. But he still locked his eyes with yours in acknowledgement.

“I’ve nothing to say to appease you. Nero is my son, borne of a woman I know not—.”

The sound of your palm striking his cheek again rung out in the room.

“How many were there, Vergil? How many women did you break on your way to becoming a monster?”

You heard him draw in a shaky breath, satisfaction thrumming in your chest at the clear emotion you drew out with your scathing questions. He looked up at you, still so stubborn even after taking so many blows from you. Then again, perhaps receiving such treatment from you didn’t mean a thing to him. Because maybe you didn’t mean anything to him at all.

“I broke more than just women, but it appears that I broke you worst of all. For that, I apologise.” He bowed his head and you saw red.

Your fingers found purchase in his long silver-white locks, and you pulled hard, so hard that the soft side of you that you pushed deep inside almost broke your dark resolve. Vergil actually shut his eyes tight at this, nostrils flaring as he tried to control his breathing. Your eyes fell to the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard before his lips fell apart and he whispered, the hurt in his tone so foreign it made him sound like anyone else but Vergil.

“What else do you want from me? If my apology is not enough, then what else do you want? I’ve nothing to give—.”

“Your pride. Your arrogance. Your lust for power, and your obsession with being in control. You’re giving that all up, Vergil. If you want me to forgive you— if I mean something to you and you want things to one day be okay between us— then you’re going to take everything I have to offer tonight. Is that understood?”

With narrowed eyes, he remained still, gaze calculating as he sized you up. It was odd; you were the one with a fistful of his hair in your grip, and he still managed to look like he was in control. In all honesty, it was jarring.

“You would risk your life to teach me a lesson?”

You steeled yourself, burying the fear that threatened to rise up your throat as bile. Mirroring his expression, you bared you teeth and willed your heart to calm down. You had to assert yourself; this was your time to tell him— and show him— exactly what you were capable of. You weren’t some damsel in distress, you weren’t a doormat that he could scuff his dirty shoes on, entering and exiting your life as he pleased.

No, you were powerful, because you were a woman who cared enough to teach him the lesson between right and wrong. And the only way he was going to learn? If wrong was done unto him.

And so, it had to be as such.

“I’m not interested in _that_ sword tonight, Vergil.” You enunciated his name, letting the final syllable drag on for impact, your tongue remaining between your teeth for a few moments before darting out to lick your rapidly drying lips. You tightened your grasp on his hair and tugged once more, and he surprised you with a muted groan.

Though your resolve was still a little shaky, you found yourself growing more confident the longer Vergil remained relatively still before you, his thighs spread and knees apart to allow you to stand between them. You frowned slightly at this train of thought— he wasn’t supposed to be allowing you to do anything— you were supposed to be the one in charge. You were supposed to be the one taking everything from him.

With as much strength as you could muster, for good measure, you pulled Vergil’s head back, knees on either side of his waist as your other hand shoved him hard against the shoulder. You weren’t sure whether it was because you had caught him by surprise, or whether he was simply allowing you to man-handle him— surely it wasn’t your strength that rocked him off-balance— that knocked him onto his back so quickly.

He fell back with a grunt, but remained still, though his chest was clearly rising and falling at a faster rate. Vergil looked up at you, eyes still narrowed, as if he was judging your every move. Your lips remained in a firm line as you released his hair and dug both heels of your palms against his shoulders, pinning him down. Leaning over him, you held your head over his and raised your eyebrows at him in a semblance of challenge.

“Do you understand what’s happening here now, Urizen—.”

This time, Vergil shut his eyes tight and turned his head away, his expression looking more pained than defiant. His mask was cracking with every mention of that godforsaken name. You decided right there and then that you would use that name all night, just to break him down further and further until he realised that his actions were loud, and they carried a devastating legacy that was hard to look past.

It was cruel, but you thought it necessary. He had to learn his lesson— and he was sure to only learn it the hard way. He was stubborn, and so the hard way was the only way.

“Do not use that name.”

“I won’t if you stay put and do as I say tonight.” You lied.

Vergil cracked his eyes open and lifted his head slightly to look at you as you leaned away and climbed off him, heading to the black duffel bag you brought along with you. Before you bent over to unzip it, you racked up your bravado and threw an order over your shoulder, hoping your voice sounded demanding enough for him to entertain obeying.

“Undress.”

There was momentary silence that rang in your ears, and you were almost certain that Vergil wasn’t going to do as you asked. But then you heard the bed springs creak slightly, and then the rustling of clothing being slipped off. You kept your back turned, not wanting to psyche yourself out before you finished committing to your resolve to be the one in charge tonight. All those years before, when he wreaked sweet havoc on your body as you writhed under him, begging for more— only to be teased and laughed at by the mysterious man caging you up from above— you were the one at his complete mercy. It was his turn to be teased. To be edged and then denied release. It was time for him to learn what living a life of obsession was like. He had to know what it was like to wait for someone you craved by the end of the night, and you had every intention of ensuring he would be craving you, and only you.

The rustling paused, and his voice cut through the silence, low and level.

“Completely?”

You shut your eyes and clutched at the strap of the duffel bag, humming in approval.

“Yes. Completely.”

You refrained from calling him by name. Not until you had him restrained. Then he would truly be at your mercy, and you could call him anything you pleased.

There was a final rustle of clothing presumably being slid down strong, steady legs, and then silence.

“And now?” He almost sounded bored.

You huffed loudly at his attitude. “Get back on the bed. On your back. Hands above your head—.”

He snorted at this, though you heard the mattress depress as Vergil got back on the bed. You kept your eyes on your bag, lifting it and pulling it back to place it on the edge of the bed for easy access.

“You intend to take control by tying me in place? How foolish.”

Your resolve almost faltered at his condescending tone. Foolish, perhaps— but you had to try. Besides, after Nico had heard briefly of your plan, she loaned you some special-made cuffs that she was working on as a prototype for Kyrie. You swallowed the blush that came with the thought of Nico’s original intentions with the restraints; you hoped that they would work if only so you could tell Nico that Kyrie could use them on her boyfriend during what you hoped would be consensual restraining.

Then again, Vergil appeared cocky enough to be giving his consent, what with the relaxed set of his body as he tilted his head towards you almost lazily, smirk playing at the corners of his lips. You vowed, right there and then to yourself, that he was going to be sorry for thinking you a fool. If he thought that he was going to get the upper hand in any way tonight without a fight on your end— he was sorely mistaken.

Perhaps this was not consent at all; merely an ever-present cockiness that was destined to bring him more truths than he might have been able to handle. Still, you would take what you could get. Besides, you had a sort of _insurance_ ready to use if Vergil got too rowdy. Morally, ethically, legally… it was all wrong— but what Vergil had done to the world, and to existence itself, had been so jarring that you felt justified in your actions. Just this once, you were going to be the big bad wolf and he would take everything you would have to offer, and then some more, as he begged for what he needed.

You pulled the regular cuffs from the bag, holding onto them before fishing around for the special mints you carried in with you. It was an aphrodisiac; potent enough to drive even a direct descendent of Sparda into a carnal, submissive frenzy. Leaning forward, you held the unassuming container over Vergil’s lips, nudging ever-so-slightly at his bottom lip.

“Mint?” You made sure your voice was soft and low; false innocence seeping into the devious intent of the offering. Furthering the act, you made a show of hesitantly climbing atop him, your thighs straddling his waist snugly as you leaned forward.

You heard him chuckle darkly under you, and watched him open up his mouth. He truly thought you incapable of anything devious. So he remembered you from all those years then— he remembered how unerringly trusting you were, and of how easily you had given yourself to him after a few meaningless sweet nothings whispered into your ear.

You tipped the minty oral aphrodisiac into his mouth and watching him as he worked it around his mouth, eyes never leaving yours as his lips pulled into a bemused smirk. His hands remained splayed above his head, though you caught them twitching for a moment, clearly wanting to reach for you— whether the touch was meant to be caring or abrasive, you weren’t about to find out, as he stopped himself from moving. Instead he accosted you with a piercing gaze, shifting slightly underneath your still clothed form.

“Generous, though I did not require refreshment, I suppose I should play along until my patience wears thin.”

You licked your lips and nodded stiffly, leaning further over his body for his wrists. You fixed the short chain linking the regular cuffs together around one of the bars on the bed-head running adjacent to the main metal structure. He didn’t fight you, only huffing in amusement, as you secured the cuffs around his wrists.

“There,” you breathed shakily, knowing full well that Vergil would most likely be able to break out of these regular bonds. But hopefully, his pride and unwillingness to lose or fall short in anything requiring extreme discipline would keep him bound. “Now, I’m going to break you in. You’re at my mercy, Urizen.”

He groaned under you, shooting you a scathing glare. Still, he remained still.

“Stop that. Stop using that name.”

“Only if you beg me.” Your voice cracked, but you held his gaze. Fear prickled at your skin and sat in a dreadful pit, accumulating in your stomach. Though he appeared still and pliant underneath you, he was liable to snap you in two if you weren’t careful. He was dangerous, and you knew that very well— but the soft side of you that you’d buried deep before enacting this evening reminded you that this was supposed to teach him a much needed lesson. He had to feel helpless, and that helplessness had to bring out some sense of humility. He wasn’t allowed to run away from this. He had to take everything he was given, and then beg for whatever else he needed.

“Never.” He hissed.

You’d have him singing a different tune soon enough.

With Vergil restrained, and unable to touch you, you pulled away from him yet again and climbed off the bed. Your eyes landed on the chair you had previously been occupying at the table, and you padded towards it on unsteady legs, taking a few deep breaths as you set about the true temptations that were to power your planned lesson specially crafted for him.

Dragging the chair over to the side of the bed, you placed it exactly where Vergil would get the best view of everything you were about to tease him with. Your hands reached for the silk sash of your robe, faltering only for a fraction of a moment, but the way his eyes narrowed to hone in on the action told you that he was well aware of your inner trepidation. With shaking fingers, you ignored his smug stare as you unravelled yourself, revealing your sheer lace black two-piece. It was a flimsy, crotchless thing, leaving naught to the imagination.

You heard his sharp intake of breath, and your eyes quickly assessed his body’s situation, noting that his pale skin was beginning to grow damp with sweat, flushing a satisfying dusting of pink all over as the sight of your soft, feminine frame left him fully aware of his body’s slow fall into sweet, torturous oblivion.

For the first time that night, you heard the cuffs rattle against the frame as Vergil forgot he was bound in his want to reach for you. Gaining confidence from the belated look of shocked realisation on his face, you felt your lips curl into a small smirk. You rounded the chair and seated yourself, planting the arches of your feet against the edge of the mattress, tossing your head back with a flick to set your loose hair behind your shoulders. And then you looked into his eyes and brought your trembling fingers to your mouth, sucking on them as you willed yourself to continue staring at the intense steel blue hues that practically glared back at your display.

“What is going on here? That mint—.”

“Something to help you loosen up,” you replied softly, popping your fingers out of your mouth, slick with saliva. You spread your legs wider, and noted with much satisfaction that his glare left your eyes, and was now focused on your most intimate area, unclothed and ready for him to see. Inching your fingers down, you wasted no time in caressing yourself, your other hand reaching for one of your neglected breasts. Your eyes flickered to the cuffs, noting that they were making more noise against the metal as Vergil’s control was beginning to slip, slowly but surely. “To make the lesson easier to deliver. Tell me,” you paused, letting out a soft sigh as you circled your clit teasingly before dipping down lower to fell your pooling slick at your entrance, “how do you feel, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you’re weak for this image? That you want to break those bonds just to get a closer look?”

Vergil let out a low growl, his body reacting naturally to the delectable sight before him. “So this is your plan? Have me lose my inhibitions, and then tease me? Pathetic. You will have to try harder…” he trailed off just as you dipped your fingers into your heat with a soft mewl. You worked yourself patiently, doing what made you feel good to get you dripping, knowing that it would drive him crazy. You recalled just how much he enjoyed ravaging you with his mouth, drinking you in as you cried tears of overstimulation, tugging on his hair, begging for a break.

You glanced at him through hooded eyes and sighed, the sound much more pleasant and relaxed than you felt earlier. The fear and trepidation you felt earlier was pushed back somewhere close enough to reignite if need be, but there was something about the glint of hunger and want in Vergil’s eyes that made you feel really good. You dipped your fingers in further, unable to stop yourself slumping a little further as you brought your other hand down to spread your lower lips to show him exactly what you were doing to yourself. The sounds of your slick as you worked yourself had you grow hotter and wetter, licking your lips as you kept your eyes on Vergil’s hungry expression.

And then when he tore his eyes from your aching core to stare with unbridled lust right into your very soul, you spasmed around your fingers with a moan of the name he _loathed_.

“U-Urizen…!”

The distinct sound of metal breaking apart brought you out of your orgasmic haze prematurely, and you caught sight of Vergil sitting up, expression absolutely livid. He reached your your ankle and tugged at you, his grip unrelenting. You kept your other foot braced on the edge of the bed, stopping you from toppling from the chair you were precariously perched on, a startled yelp leaving your parted lips.

“No! Stop—!”

“Shut up,” he hissed, darting forward, already on his knees, leaning forward to grasp for your wrist, “you will obey me—.”

You glared at him as you lunged for him, using your bodyweight to topple him onto his back once more. Straddling him more confidently than the first time, you ground your wet core down onto his hard, throbbing length— catching him off guard— before you snatched Nico’s demon cuffs from the duffel bag. You worked your hips against his, the tingling pleasure that came from feeling his hot member rubbing so tantalisingly between your slick folds almost too distracting. Throwing yourself forward you caught one of his arms and locked one side of the detached cuffs onto his wrist. He growled dangerously under you and reached for your hips as he thrust his own up against your heat, rutting almost savagely against you as the aphrodisiac rendered him slave to his carnal desire for sexual satisfaction. You couldn’t help yourself as you ground back against him, reaching for his other arm before hastily securing the other cuff on his wrist.

Touching the activation pads on both cuffs, you were just as surprised as Vergil as his arms snapped upward, held above his head, seemingly secured by nothing. But even as he tugged with all his strength at the demon cuffs, he was unable to move from where his wrists were pinned on either side of his head.

He glared up at you, his hips still bucking up with renewed vigour.

“The h-hell is this?”

You splayed a hand against Vergil’s chest for purchase as you took a few more indulgent moments for yourself, grinding against him until you began to feel that familiar light-headedness that came just before you reached your peak. Slowing to a stop, you let out a moan that mingled with a sob of pleasure, strands of your hair sticking to your forehead and the sides of your face from the exertion.

“You’re helpless now. Totally at my mercy. And you want your release, don’t you? It’s starting to ache a little more than usual, isn’t it?” You breathed, licking your lips as you took in the disdain on his face. Your words registered with him belatedly, and it was almost comical how his mouth fell agape, no sharp remarks spilling from them as he simply stared at you, bested. You bit the inside of your lip and climbed off him, a little reluctantly, before repositioning yourself so that your knees were spread to straddle either side of his head.

“Closer…” you heard Vergil murmur, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt at ordering you.

“I don’t answer to monsters, Urizen.” You leaned forward, hands trailing teasing touches down his twitching body, his thighs stiff and his well-endowed manhood as long, beautifully curved, and almost angrily flushed as you remembered it all those years ago.

“I’m n-not Urizen. I am Vergil. C-call me Vergil.”

You took his cock in your grasp and pumped it once, grip firm and unyielding. An obscene moan from the man underneath you truly startled you— never in your wildest dreams had you imagined he could even make such a wanton sound. And it was all because of you— you _were_ breaking him, bit by bit, just as you planned. His weaknesses were coming to surface— he wasn’t infallible. He wasn’t all disciplined, and certainly not all powerful. You could sense that he was starting to force himself to acknowledge the reality all due to your perverse little plan to school him.

“The being underneath me is a monster. Filled with intentions to betray, to run away from the messes that it has made. It knows nothing such as mercy, nothing such as equality. It just knows to place all others as inferior— this is Urizen. You are Urizen until you can show me your human side.”

You lolled your tongue out and leaned down to languidly lap at the head of his cock, having a taste of his salty, slightly bitter pre-cum. His hips stuttered, but remained mostly resting against the mattress below. You heard him take in a sharp breath, a slew of softly spoken curses under his breath barely audible to you over the harsh pounding of your heart. You finally revealed your true thoughts, and the true purpose behind what you were doing to him. And now, it would be entirely up to him if he could show you what you wanted before you said the name that he wanted to reclaim as his own.

Opening your mouth wider, you took the tip of his member wholly into your mouth, sucking gently at first, though your grip on him was firm and sure. You pumped at the base of his shaft as you ramped up the intensity of your sucking, your hips rocking on their own accord above his head, your folds glistening, your slick just barely threatening to drip down your slit. Your head bobbed up and down as you fucked him with your warm mouth, lips applying a tantalising pressure around him, unable to keep him quiet.

Vergil’s toes curled and his chiseled lower abdomen trembled. He let out deep moans underneath you, his back arching slightly in his attempts to keep as still as possible lest you stop. You smiled around his cock, a dark glint in your eyes as you pulled off him with a ‘pop’ before you leaned back, hand finding his messy hair. Your twined your fingers between the strands and lowered yourself down onto his face without any warning, earning yourself a guttural groan from Vergil right against your dripping heat. A throaty moan left you as arousal pulsed hotly in your veins, your eyes fixed on his angry, twitching cock. One of your hands pressed against his muscular, sweat-sheened chest as the other remained in his hair, tugging his head up to press him exactly where you wanted him.

His tongue worked magic against your folds, licking, lapping and sucking loudly with mingled groans and moans sending erotic vibrations right down to your curling toes. You whimpered as you rocked your hips against his handsome face, getting off to the act of using his perpetually smug smirking mouth for your own pleasure. You gasped loudly, grinding down harder against his face until you saw white, your whole body in rapture as you arched almost painfully, riding out the sheer strength of your orgasm. Falling forward, you incidentally gave Vergil respite from pretty much being smothered by your wanting pussy.

He heaved in breaths, almost sounding like he was hyperventilating under you. Unable to help yourself, you readjusted your trembling body so that his cock was pressed up against your asscheeks, your shaking hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you leaned down, lips hovering just a few breaths over his. You blinked at him, in a daze, taking in the pained desperation that painted his usually confident and calm features. His teeth were bared and his eyes were darkened with lust.

But there was something else you’d never seen on his face before. Something you doubted anyone had seen before.

Tear tracks. Appearing sliver in the dim light of the room against his pale skin, you caught his slight sniffle and grew concerned over the faraway look in his eyes. You reached one hand up to cradle his jaw, the facade cracking slightly as you wanted nothing more than to end your cruel dominance— so long as he acknowledge the lesson to be learned.

“So, the devil cries… curious.” You whispered, not trusting yourself to sound as level-headed in any louder voice.

He turned his head in weak defiance, shoulders wracking as he held in his emotions. He was trying too hard to hide it from you and the world altogether— but you wanted him to crack. To admit that he was human, and to embrace the unyielding intangible power that came with giving into his emotions; that was what you wanted.

“You have not won— ah!” He cried out suddenly as you leaned back once more and rolled your hips against his. Your gaze was steady on his, noting the way his bottom lip trembled and his jaw tightened. He shook his head defiantly. “No… don’t stop. Y/N, don’t you dare stop—.”

You stopped the rocking of your hips and leaned forward once more, heart aching at the pained whine that Vergil produced at the loss of contact. You cupped his jaw in your palm again, stroking his cheek as more tears spilled out from sheer frustration. Lips just above his, you breathed your question against his lips.

“What have you accomplished in your search for power, Urizen? What am I to reward you for?”

He sobbed, throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed and shook his head slightly, eyes screwed shut. “N-nothing. I’ve lost everything! Please… it hurts.”

You felt your eyes watering as your resolve crumbled at his admission. This was what you wanted, but it was still painful to hear— especially in that state he was in, trembling and helpless underneath you. Your hand caressed his cheek, lips still close, but much too far to capture in a kiss. You felt the puffs of his frantic breaths against your lips, but you still needed to hear something more.

“What hurts, Urizen? The fact that you are no longer human? Because only humans can be sated of their baser desires—.”

“I am not Urizen. I am Vergil. I am half-demon, half-human. I have made mistakes— irreversible, and destructive. It hurts!”

You let out a shaky breath. “Tell me you’re sorry.”

He nodded, almost frantically, and you felt his cock prod at the swell of your ass as he rocked his hips up to no avail. “I’m s-sorry. Please…”

You leaned further forward, eyes starting right into Vergil’s. His eyes were glazed, frantic almost, as they focused on yours with deep seated desperation for approval.

You could get drunk on that look if you stared too long.

“Tell me you’re done with your search for power.”

He shuddered and nodded, eyes blown wide as he writhed in pained arousal underneath you. “I’ve power incarnate in my very presence. I- I cannot match this. I can never h-hope to… Y/N… I can’t—.”

You pressed your lips against his for a second before pulling away, soothing him with your touches. Your resolve shattered. He was done. He admitted defeat.

“I’ve got you, Vergil.” You murmured, and he whimpered under you— the once powerful and confident man completely broken— all because of you. You weren’t sure whether you were supposed to be proud or ashamed.

You spread your legs and leaned back, taking hold of his cock, keeping an eye on his pained expression. You didn’t dare shut your eyes as you impaled yourself on his cock, hot and aching inside you. You watched as his expression grew slack, and he sobbed in relief at the feeling of your warm, tight walls clenching around his sizeable member.

Reaching up, you brushed your fingers against the activation pads on his cuffs, and they fell off him easily. He didn’t move his arms at all, laying limp underneath you as you rode him with all the strength you had left. You bounced your hips up and down, taking him in fast, long strokes deep inside you. Mouth parted in overwhelming pleasure, your pussy pulsed with the onset of a strong orgasm.

“Vergil… don’t leave again. Don’t hurt us the way you did again. Don’t hurt me the way you did ever again.” You whimpered as you fell forward, your cheek pressed against his shoulder as you undulated your hips, desperate to reach your peak. “H-hold me and fuck me. Vergil, show me just how human you can be. Spill it all inside me. Take me for yours.”

It was then that his arms wrapped around your frame, his hips snapping up powerfully as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. He cried as he fucked you, his sobs wracking his whole body as he chanted your name like a revenant prayer. Hips snapping against yours, he worked you through your orgasm once, twice and then a third time— leaving you overstimulated and limp. Still, he held you tight against himself as he grunted and groaned, reaching his own release only after you were beginning to black out.

You felt the warmth of his seed filling you, painting your insides, and spilling out as he gently pulled out of you. And you felt his trembling form wrap you in a desperate embrace, his voice lulling you in and out of consciousness as he murmured incoherent apologies over and over.

You fell to your exhaustion, guilty and satisfied, your dreams only just short of nightmares as Vergil cried underneath you, begging you not to call him by the name of Urizen again.

* * *

When you and Vergil arrived back to the Devil May Cry office, looking entirely exhausted and spent, no one said a word. Dante spared a concerned look between you and Vergil before slipping back to his flippant, confident mask.

“So, there’s some clean up to be done. Verge?”

Vergil made brief eye contact with his twin before grunting in acknowledgement quietly.

“You up for a joint clean-up gig with us?” He gestured at Lady and Trish, who sat idly on the red leather sofa, watching you and Vergil with interest.

You turned to Vergil and nodded. He tore his gaze from you, almost looking ashamed, his cheeks flushing as he clenched his fists at his sides.

He nodded stiffly.

“Of course. It’s time I cleaned up after my own messes. Vergil, Son of Sparda, fights now for the protection of humanity. I swear it.”


End file.
